Broken Links
by SeerBlack
Summary: Dean's dead and Sam has to find a way to live without him but the apparitions of Dean keep haunting Sam's mind. Oneshot, post 3x16.


**Broken Links**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, I just occasionally play with Kripke's toys.**

**Dedication: To Sarah and my family.**

He watched him die in his arms. His brother, his blood, his family. The only link left to the family that he had left- he was the last sole survivor and he wasn't even supposed to be alive. The light dulled in his eyes and he left him sag gently to the floor, the uncontrollable grief and rage at the loss that had overcome him. He pressed his fingertips against his brother's eyelids softly and closed them for him- allowing himself his final goodbye.

It had been one hundred and eighty days, nineteen hours and twenty three minutes since his brother had died. The alarm blared shrilly from the bedside table and Sam bolted upright, arms out in front of him as he pushed the covers back. With the precision of a military cadet he dressed and made his bed to sharp perfection. Not a corner was creased or out of place, it was ordered. He looked across to the motel room wall where dates and map locations plastered the wall- all in search of the demon that had destroyed his life.

He could hear Dean screaming sometimes, if he concentrated hard enough. Ruby had said that his powers went far beyond precognitive limitations. He could have destroyed Lillith wiping her out to save his brother. Sam scrunched his forehead and massaged the bridge of his nose as he tried to shake off the forming head-ache. He had sworn to himself and promised Dean that he would find a way out of his deal and if that meant he had to go and drag Dean out, then that's what Sam would do.

Sam swallowed nervously and sat down at the desk. Papers arranged in alphabetical order each labelled and dated in clear, concise writing covered the desktop. The only space available to work was the small square around Sam's laptop which was currently opened on a weather forecast page. He closed it down and winced as blinked up, another painful reminder of the loss of Dean. He tried so hard to avoid things that reminded him of Dean; sometimes, he would wait for his older brother's always ready wise-cracks only to hear the empty sound of his own breathing. It almost felt as if the Trickster's reality without Dean had come true and that all he had to do was hunt him down again and force him to bring him back.

He didn't know what was worse, having to relive that Tuesday over and over again- watching Dean die a different way like a broken record, or, knowing that Dean was _dead _and in _hell_ and being helpless to save him. The loud noise of an answering machine broke him out of his reverie and Sam focused his green eyes on the phone as the clipped tones of his voice echoed around the room.

"Winchester. Leave a message."

"Sam, its Bobby. Son, you have to call sometime- you can't let Dean's death control you like this. He wouldn't want you to waste your life the way you are now. Let me help you-"

The phone beeped again as the phone hung up and Sam paused for a moment, trying to decide whether he should call Bobby back. Bobby had been across the street when Dean had been ripped to shreds by the hell hounds, trapped until the remaining demons had fled. Bobby had helped him move Dean's body from the house, had helped him cremate Dean's corpse and had been there when Sam had returned to Mary's grave to bury the amulet with their father's dog tags. Dean's ashes, duffel and other personal items remained with Sam.

Bobby had asked if Sam meant to scatter Dean's ashes but as long as Sam lived, Dean would continue to road-trip with him, albeit in a box. Sam hoped that as long as every piece of Dean remained, perhaps he would still have somewhere to come back to. He paused in his thoughts and looked across to the second queen sized bed where Dean's impala shaped box sat in the middle of the pillows, silent, yet still managing to have a presence. Sam turned back to the laptop briefly glancing at the latest electrical storm report before he minimised the window and brought up the other important task that he was following.

After the Yellow-Eyed demon had been killed by Dean he had found that his powers had disappeared or rather become dormant. Sam had returned to scanning for signs of the YED's whereabouts in the past years and finding some more of the 'Special Kids' for his own personal army. Lillith had fled from Sam and now Sam was determined to destroy her with as much firepower as possible. He had gotten one or two leads (it was a lot harder now that Ash had died) but they had either disappeared or had been killed in freak accidents.

Sam sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, standing up and walking over to the bathroom. The bathroom mirror had become his worse daily enemy as Sam could see every little detail about himself that was changing every day without Dean. The bags under his eyes, the new scars that covered his once smooth skin and the way his eyes looked dead and blank. He leaned over the sink and turned the tap on, splashing water over his tired face briefly jolting him with the cold sensation.

It was here in the bathroom mirror that he saw Dean. His big brother always stood behind him, arms folded across his chest and alwayswatching over his baby brother with some concern. He could practically feel Dean's disappointment at the way he was running his life but like Bobby, Sam could ignore the manifestation of Dean too. Sam turned around to face Dean and held his arms out as he demanded.

"What do you want me to do? You just expect to keep on hunting like nothing happened?! How could you do this? After everything you felt when dad made his deal, why did you do this to me?"

Dean remained silent but his expression changed to one of guilt. Sam glared at him and shook his head.

"Don't look at me like that. This is all _your_ fault Dean and if I have to lose my humanity in order to save you- that's on your shoulders."

Dean said nothing but looked at the ground and in the blink of an eye vanished. Sam slammed his palms on the bench in frustration as he ignored the blinding pain making its way up his arms. He didn't care about hunting anymore, didn't care about saving the innocents caught in the middle of the war. As far as he was concerned they could fend for themselves and experience what he had to grow up with. He slid down to the ground and stared at the spot where Dean vanished and wished, not for the last time, that Dean was alive and that he could just have his brother again. He turned to look at the clock on the wall opposite him.

One hundred and eighty days, nineteen hours and fifty eight minutes since Dean had died and Sam didn't know how he could hold on. A whisper, faint and comforting sounded next to his ear.

_"You're my brother and I died for you. Live for me Sammy."_

* * *

**Authors Note: Right. This was a bit exhausting to write so hopefully it came out ok. I'm working hard on my in progress fic so you may see an update soon.**


End file.
